


Places To Be

by oceaxe



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 22:16:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13750308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: Eames thinks about Arthur's absence. Arthur thinks about Eames' presence.





	Places To Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gessorosso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gessorosso/gifts).



> Inspired by Erasure's "Am I Right," from the album Chorus.
> 
> This is a gift to the entirely lovely and delightful Gessorosso, whose prompt was "place to be." Written as a pinch hit for Eames' Stupid Cupid 2018.

Eames has no place to be at the moment, so he stays where he is, holed up in his old flat, blanket around his shoulders. All his warmer clothes are in a storage unit in Mombasa, and he hadn’t realized he would end up in Amsterdam again so soon. 

He stands at the window, watching as the people below in the streets carry on with their lives, seemingly oblivious to the downpour that washes the pavements clean of debris. Bits of trash and newsprint scurry down the gutter. Eames wishes his own debris could be washed away so easily. The detritus of old forges, tics and preferences and pet names that became habit somehow, an accumulation of essentially random traits that obscure him from himself.

And from others.

The rain tapers off but the wind is still chill, blowing through the panes of glass, the pre-war architecture charming but falling apart. There’s a comparison to be made here, Eames knows, but he resists it. 

At the bus stop across the street, he sees a woman shaking droplets from her yellow umbrella, her lover laughing and shying away from the spray. A bus passes them, full of people, but the two women are too wrapped up in each other to notice. The rain starts up again and _pop_ goes the umbrella, sheltering them as they kiss.

Eames walks away from the window, makes himself some tea, wanders the rooms with the cup cradled in his hands. 

He sees that Arthur’s toothbrush is on the counter, unaccountable in light of his fastidiousness. It must have been here since the last time. The final time. He has a brief fantasy that Arthur’s returned - come in and freshened up, then left to go get supplies for the two of them. He’ll be back any moment.

But no. Arthur has places to be. Which are not here. 

It’s barely past noon but Eames feels exhausted. He doesn’t bother calculating the hours anymore, has no idea what time his body thinks it is. If his body wants sleep, he will give it. He draws the blinds. The duvet is heavy and soft and he drifts off, hoping for a dreamless sleep.

He’s tired of dreaming of Arthur, only to wake to an empty room.

 

Arthur has somehow found himself in the center of the city, and slows down as he nears the Homomonument. He has mixed feelings about the name, but then again, he thinks with a wry frown, he has mixed feelings about a lot of things. 

He can see the church from here and is hit with a series of memories, centering on the day when Eames had taken him there to show him the paintings inside the organ shutters—King David on one side, Sheba on the other. They had climbed to the top of the bell tower and Arthur can’t forget how Eames bribed the volunteer to leave them there, unattended amongst the 51 gigantic bells. Or how Eames pressed him against the largest and brought him off, his gasps echoing all around.

It had been afterwards, when Eames asked him if he’d told anyone about their “friendship,” the first crack had shown. 

“I’m not in the right place for that now,” he’d said. But if not now, when? He remembers a line from the novel he’s just finished. A novel Eames had all but forced him to read. _If not later, when?_

Never. 

Not ever, he thinks. Is that the answer? It can’t be. There must be a time and a place. Maybe this is it.

Chicago and his foster family and the military were all years behind him. Surely he didn’t need to sacrifice anything for them any longer. They’d taken enough from him. They had rejected him and hurt him; what loyalty did he owe? None.

Arthur walks across the center of the monument to the triangle with the inscription. _Naar Vriendschap Zulk een Mateloos Verlangen_. He thinks of Eames’ endless desire; for his friendship, his body, his time, his attention. For him. 

There are flowers in the water of the canal. He watches them drift and knows that he will go back. Or rather, forward. 

 

Eames wakes up in the late afternoon to see Arthur sitting on the bed next to him, his profile indistinct in the dark room but unmistakable. And impossible. He would reach for his chip but his hand is held tight in Arthur’s grip. 

“I thought you had places to be,” Eames says, and wishes he hadn’t. 

“I was wrong,” Arthur says, his dark gaze softer than Eames has ever seen it. “Or maybe I was right. I’m in the place I want to be.” 

Eames pulls on his hand and Arthur comes easily along, laying almost on top of him, their noses almost touching. 

“And where is that,” Eames doesn’t quite ask.

“Home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Naar Vriendschap Zulk een Mateloos Verlangen: "such an endless desire for friendship"
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Am_I_Right%3F
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iquhCuzy1uw
> 
> https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/erasure/amiright.html
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homomonument
> 
> The phrase "If not later, when?" is from Call Me By Your Name by Andre Aciman.


End file.
